Get the patriarch, the founder, forefather Initiator the forebearer your predecessor The architect and now Arthur I sponge you son Informed you, uungh better yet cleared your mind Used to stick your chest out son cause I was your father Gave you pride about your south side cos I was your father Used to listen to the tape pop and roll your quarter Let me slow down and state some fact I put chrome in my mouth they used to call me jaws I'm in the 84 "lac with the butterfly doors Dundgeon family, 100 deep when we in the streets Who you think ya big brothers them wanted to be I'm your father
Influenced by few But I've been inspired many Dropasaurus Rex prime minister with the semi Set the standards for grimy intellectual niggas Sothern realistic flow special delivery Boy it's killing me ain't nothing new under the sun Sit back listen I tell you how the south was won With big guns, deep pockets and hard heads South white box chevy gold grills and dreads Never scared raised the bar while you tucked your tail Goodie Mob, Illuminati? What the hell? If anything boy we put your ass up on game Gave you food for your soul and nourished your brain
My significance brings purpose when I'm nervous I remember the snow is falling on December as I matched the mink to winter As I noticed a similar pattern Of different characters in the matrix they were learning I'm your papi I'm the reason you were rapping I got no time for napping you still off in the trap and... You asking me what happened The music ain't the same We opened up your brains and we blow back through the veins And The facts still remains we gave away the game Our records helped you train And we got you through the pain and we stayed off in our lane We made it out the rain We're artist, we're teachers We're leaders, we're soldiers
I contemplated completely killing my son If I can't cut the cancer out that's stealing my son To lay down my own life I am willing my son Yeah I remember smiling when I caught him stealing my gun Before I started building my son I was stealing for crumbs Couldn't tell the difference from how I was feeling from numb The four walls, the floor and the ceiling is slum And right outside the front door the kids were killing for fun And he had a room with a view And a couple of times he saw his daddy go outside and have some fun too But let's be clear I'm not your peer listen here I am harder, I'm smarter, I am Sparta I am your father
Writer/s: CAMERON F. GIPP, COREY SIMON, KANNON CROSS, ROBERT TERRANCE BARNETT, THOMAS CALLAWAY, WILLIE EDWARD KNIGHTON
Publisher: BMG Rights Management, Exploration Group LLC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind
"Friends In Low Places" by Garth Brooks was written by two Nashville songwriters after a meal in a local restaurant. One of them forgot his money, but said not to worry, "I have friends in low places. I know the cook."